


the glow of the cities below

by a_mind_at_work (Madame_Marauder)



Series: this whole damn city [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Colors, Families of Choice, M/M, Maria/Alex is my brotp okay, Multi, Other, Prostitution, SciFi sort of, So many M A N I A jokes that it hurts, Spying, caste system, darker than usual, fluff but dark, futuristic AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 23:50:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Marauder/pseuds/a_mind_at_work
Summary: Alexander takes a trip or two down memory lane as he collects important data for the resistance.





	the glow of the cities below

 

   The neon sign is still buzzing in the window, the ‘o’ flickering on and off. It's quiet, too, the only noise the snap and hiss of the electricity coursing through the conductors in the walls. It was always quiet. Down here, nobody can afford to give you the time of day.

    He glances at his cracked reflection in a shattered poster frame, his face bathed in that purple glow that tinges his dreams. Yet there’s a disconnect there; when he dreams, he sees the boy he used to be. Now, staring back at him instead, is the man he is today.

    It's odd, seeing his face lit in purple but his cheeks not sunken, his skin stained hues of violet but his eyes bright and clear. He's down here, but here is not where he belongs.

    John clears his throat beside him, and he has to turn at the noise. The Yellow-born is horribly uncomfortable down here in the seedy underworld of the City, and Alexander feels his face stretch into a mocking grin. Who it's mocking, he's not really sure, but here it is nonetheless.

     “How are we-”

     “We just have to find the contact, then we can leave, Goldilocks. Shut up, stay close to me, don't lose your temper.” He can feel his words getting sharper, clipped and readier to wound as he readjusts to his surroundings. It might have been five years, but he can still navigate the Purple level as easily as the day he escaped it.

     Thankfully, John does just that, and doesn't more than startle as they go from hovels to harems, slipping inside an establishment with a wavering sign declaring the strip club’s name:  _ Wilson’s. _

     Alexander leads the way through the for-now-quiet room, making a beeline for the bar and dropping an elbow in the top as he leans over the counter. “Ruby Delight for my friend and I.”

     The bartender, obviously jacked up on something strong, gives him a lolling nod and reaches into a drawer, producing a cheap keyring, sliding one off it. “Door has a rose. Pay direct. Wait time, couple minutes.”

     He smiles at the guy and takes the key. “Leave it with the Ruby or return it here?”

     “Here,” the bartender replies, then goes back to enjoying his high. Alexander nods and tugs John down the hall, the cheap neon signs on the walls flickering on and off, the barely muffled noises of trades being plyed making his lover shift uncomfortably.

     It's obvious which door is theirs, and he unlocks it silently, letting John in first and only letting himself sigh once it’s shut behind them. 

     “Alexander?” John says softly. There's concern in the other's voice, but also surprise. “This is-”

     “Alex, down here,” he interrupts. “Shorter, Jack. The air’s too poor to talk that much. Why’d you think the tables have holoscreens in them?”

      The taller man opens his mouth, then shuts it again, and nods. “Our contact?”

      “I'll do the talking, Laurens. It's fine.”

      Another nod, and Alexander feels that familiar sensation of too many words on the tip of his tongue, none of which he can speak. John will never understand how he glories in people in Upper levels saying his full name, will never know just how much affection there is in a nickname with an extra few syllables. But that's okay. Alexander himself knows, and that's enough.

      His lover takes his hand as they wait anxiously in the sparse bedroom, and squeezes. Alexander squeezes back, and they don't have more than a few moments to wait before the door opens slowly and a woman in a small red dress enters.

      Her hair is in long, spiraling curls over her shoulders, and her tight dress accentuates everything she has. Her heels must have been smuggled from at least Blue, and if this was a legitimate visit Alexander doesn't even want to  _ think  _ about what it would cost. But he folds his fingers over each other and rests his hand just under his collarbone. The Ruby blinks, her holomask lagging just barely from what her real reaction time must be. With its filters, it has to; can't displease a client, can we?

      She mirrors his gesture, though, and a lightly modified voice says, “What did the royals wear?”

      As far as passcodes, it was fairly obvious. “Their silken mania. Who wove the silk?”

      “Lavender maidens.”

     He nods, and so does the Ruby. She glances to John, stood slightly behind him, and tilts her head, but Alexander gives her a small smile. The Ruby starts at that, though, and locks the door behind her before stepping forward and staring. Almost as if in a trance, her hand drifts up to her jaw and disables her mask’s audio filter. A moment of consideration, then she does the undoable and deactivates the visual layer as well.

     And it wasn't like he hadn't expected to at least see someone he had known, but  _ her… _

     “Alex,” Mary breathes, her caramel eyes wide and bright with what are tears threatening to spill. “ _ Alex _ , you?”

     Alexander offers her his hands, and they both pretend that they're not shaking. “Mary? I- I wasn't expecting-”

     “Maria, now,” she corrects. “Wasn't expecting you, either.”

     They stare for a long moment, before she pulls him into a hug, grip tightening when she realizes she can't encircle his waist with her hands anymore. He really, truly wishes he could say the same about her. He can't.

     John shifts in confusion, and that makes them pull apart just enough to look at each other. “Look at you, all grown up.”

     “Mare, I'm two years older than you,” Alexander protests weakly. “John, this is Mary- sorry, Maria. She's my…”

     He trails off as he wracks his brain for a shorter way to explain their mess of a friendship. Oh, yes, they had met at fifteen and thirteen respectively when Maria was somehow in worse shape than him, and he'd let her crash on his floor, and somehow that had evolved into the closest thing to a family bond either of the had had in years.

     “Roommate?” Maria offers quietly.

     Alexander raises an eyebrow at her. “Psuedo-little sister,” he corrects. She smiles. “Maria, this is John. My boyfriend.”

     John starts beside them, because there's no way they can be casual anywhere above Green, and nowhere above Blue that they could openly say this out loud, but Maria only smiles. “Good to meet you.”

     “You too,” John manages, the difference in oxygen finally making itself evident to him. 

      Maria laughs at that, and glances at Alexander with a knowing glint in her eye. “Up?”

      “Yellow,” he agrees, and she wiggles her eyebrows at him. “Oh, shut up, Mare.”

      She grins unrepentantly, but then her smile drops. “We had a reason to be here, didn't we.”

       Alexander's joy at her being  _ alive  _ deflates as well. “Yeah. You've got the datastick, then?”

       “Yeah. Here.” Maria undoes a tiny, invisible zipper in the back of her dress and slides out a datastick. “Fifteen gig on all the shit you've missed. Nick said to have someone tell you he says hi. So.”

       He nods. “Tell him I told someone to tell him I say hi as well. How're the boys?”

       “Fine, just fine. You know Jamie Too?”

      Alexander raises an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

      “His name's Philip now. Picked it.”

      “Good choice,” Alexander replies, stashing the datastick deep in his own pockets. Of course the kid had named himself out of the same book Alexander's mother had used. And of  _ course  _ he'd chosen the closest thing to a little brother that the title character had.

      They both stand and stare for a moment, and then Alexander raises one eyebrow. “Ruby Delight? Really?”

      Maria shrugs. “It was Ruby or Emerald, Alex. I wasn't about to take it.”

      “No, no,” he agrees. “I appreciate it. But if anyone had to have it… Mom would've liked you.”

      She shakes her head. “Thanks, but I'll stick with Ruby. Nobody's really wanting to take Emerald, anyway. She was too good of a person for anyone to fill her shoes.”

      That hits him hard, but he smiles weakly. “She'd have appreciated that.”

      Maria just nods again and grins slightly, but then looks at the time and scowls. “Shit, Alex, I'm so sorry, we're running low on time.”

      “Not your fault, kiddo. We need to be going too. Stay safe, won't you?”

     She sighs. “I'll do my best. You do too.”

     Alexander huffs. “I'll do my best if you do. You know how it is, Maria.”

     “Oh, Alex,” she says, and rests her hand near her jaw. “We're all rooting for you.”

     She's reactivated her mask and slipped out of the room before he can reply. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, adjusting his jacket so it sits askew and pulling John down along the hall behind him. “Not now, Jack. I'll answer you later.”

      “Fair,” John replies faintly. Alexander feels the incongruence between his lives grate at him like sharp pieces of gravel, right up until they're in a capsule upwards and the lights’ glow shifts from purple to blue to green, and he feels that adrenaline rush of oxygen flooding his lungs.

       At their apartment, he collapses on the couch and turns the datastick over and over in his hands. Yeah, it's important for the resistance, and their politicians, but one of the things nobody's seemed to realize is the fact that Alexander  _ knows _ most of their contacts. Not officially, of course, but he can sure as hell recognize Ned’s dry sarcasm, or Maria's pointed italics. These are the the people he grew up with, and are currently the most at risk in this rebellion of theirs.

      But then, weren't they always?

      “You know her,” John says gently.

      Alexander lets out a rushing sigh. “Told you, she's basically my little sister. Didn't know it was going to be Maria who was our contact, though. I probably should've guessed, though. Where I go stumbling into trouble, she's never very far behind.”

     John nods, and Alexander slumps in his seat. “Grab the projector, would you?”

 

     He's got about twelve screens open, sales records and notes from Ned and reports from Maria, when he finally pieces together what the fuck Nick is trying to tell them.

     Nick's dying.

     And next in line for his smuggling op is none other than Ned. Ned, whose current stream of information is vital. But the only other viable option… that's James Hamilton Jr. And if there's anything Alexander knows about his blood-brother, it's that his willingness to help others at risk to himself is more unpredictable than his temper. 

      He pushes the projector away from him and stands, slamming his hands down on the table. “Damnit, Nick.”

     John looks up from his own work. “What? What's wrong?”

     “Nick's let James get too trusted.  We're not going to be able to get Ned’s information much longer,” he spits. “I told him not to let that bastard worm too far up. I  _ told  _ him!”

     He can feel John's worried gaze, and the surprise therein at the names he knows. “How do you know that?” 

     It burns under his skin, his shame and rage at the abrupt realization that he's become the one thing he had always hated most. These are his people, his friends and family in a sense, and his first reaction was frustration over information.

      His words are burning on his tongue too, the clear reply fizzling out of existence. “Nick's dying,” he says instead, letting his voice go hollow and broken. “He's dying. He wouldn't have dared send a message with Maria if he wasn't. He's- fuck.”

       Alexander lets himself fall back into his chair, and his breath escapes him in a huff. The rich air of the farming level is too sweet, too light, and he makes himself breathe it in slowly, breathe it out even slower. 

      “Alexander,” John says hesitantly, “you need to explain. I don't know what you're trying to tell me.”

     His tongue burns with words, blistering like the food on Blue and Green and Up that's actually served hot and he burned himself on when he'd first come up. But he doesn't let them pass his lips; he just drops his head in his hands. 

     “My father is dying,” Alexander begins, the words foreign in his mouth, but true. Because that's exactly what Nick had been to him, wasn't it? “My father is dying, and he’s let my blood-brother get too high up in his smuggling operation. The only two people in positions to take over the op are my brother, or my blood-brother. Ned is currently one of our most important sources. James is a good man, but just as flighty as our blood-father. Ned needs to take over to make sure they keep working with us.”

      John frowns. “Haven't you always said that Purple is almost entirely sympathetic to us?”

      “We're sympathetic, yes, but we're also dying young and starving, John. You have no idea what it would mean for the right people to offer a bribe of a few hundred credits. Two hundred would see a single person enough food for a year, and rent besides. Three hundred would get them a one-way trip to Blue. Four hundred and they could have enough to start decently in Blue. And then we've been sold out. James… he is our blood-father's son.”

       The other's frown deepens, but he nods. “So one of your brothers…?”

       “My brother, Ned, will give us the largest round of information he can and then take over the op. My blood-brother, James, will remain as he is, without knowing about us. I trust Nick will have thought this through enough to get someone else competent of his into Ned’s current spot,” Alexander replies, knowing in his bones that he's right. “I just w- oh.”

        “Oh?”

        He grins, and pulls over the projector again. “Nick never does anything without some purpose there. Take file video H, file video I, and play them overtop each other.”

        What had been a video-only scroll-though of records (split in two) now had an audio track to replace the static filled silence. Alexander pauses them and tugs on headphones with a meaningful look at John, then hits play.

_ “That's my clever boy,”  _ Nick's dry voice says. He even sounds sick, hoarse and scratchy in the recording.  _ “I’m sure you didn't take more than an hour to get it.” _

      He snorts, because it's a fair statement.

_ “I'm sorry to have to leave things like this, Alex. But I'm dying, as I'm sure you have figured out by now. And Ned is the only one who's fit for taking over. You know that as well as I do.” _

__ Well, yeah. They've each let the possibilities play out mentally, and arrived at the same conclusion.

_ “Mary is doing well- she's going by Maria now. Little Jamie is going by Philip. Your blood-brother has a girlfriend, and they seem happy. And we're all so, so proud of you, Alex. You have the support of us all, kiddo.” _

       There certainly aren't tears in his eyes.

       Nick sounds choked up as well, on the recording.  _ “You've done the impossible, Alex, and we miss you, but hopefully you're happier. And you can finally make some real change, can see it through. We're all behind you. Go win, son. Emmie and I will see you at the finish line.” _

        The audio ends, and Alexander puts a hand against the screen, rewinds it.  _ “Go win, son. Emmie and I will see you- Go win, son. Emmie and I will see you- Go win, son. Emmie and I will see you at the finish line.” _

__ The tears fall, and he lets his hand do the same. His father had thought of him as his son, had called him such, and his chest aches at the revelation. And of course Nick had used his mother's old nickname between the two, back when it was a comment on her eyes and not a stage name. Emerald beauty, Emerald Beauty. Rachel Faucette.

      His blood-mother, his mother, is the only piece of his family to hold both titles. James Jr. was his blood-brother, James Sr. his blood-father, but Ned is his brother and Maria his sister and Philip his brother and Nick his father. True family is chosen, but blood bonds are not meaningless either.

      Alexander saves the layered video, and copies the audio over to the datastick around his neck. He can save it to his earpiece later. For now he clears the layered audio off of the video, and lets himself sink back into the familiar rhythm of decoding information.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what this is. You can just blame Fall Out Boy for this; it's based off Bishops Knife Trick.
> 
> If you want more drabbles in this verse??? Let me know i guess????
> 
> My main Tumblr: discount-satan  
> My writing Tumblr: littlelionroar
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!!


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